He shifted, getting a little closer but subtly, like he was only restless. “What else? I’ve shoplifted. Small stuff, years ago. Another new school, more bad choices in friends. You’ll notice a lot of that pattern, too. I almost broke into a house once. A guy told me this other kid swiped his iPod and he wanted me to get it back. I almost fell for it. At least he bothered lying to me. Most times, kids just figured I’d be happy to help them do something illegal.”

“Because you look like the type?”

“Yeah, but not in the way you mean. A lot of the places we went—small towns and that—were very white. You’re lucky here. I mean, I’m sure you get some problems, but you’re …”

“Sheltered.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay. I know I am. When I leave Salmon Creek, there’s a distinct change in tone.” I motioned to his arm, now covered by his jacket. “I saw your tattoo. Hopi, isn’t it? The crow mother?”

“Very good. Yeah, Mom was Hopi. Annie and I got the tattoos after she died.”

He went quiet, then snapped out of it and tugged his jacket sleeve up to give me a better look. It was a gorgeous tattoo. Before he pulled the sleeve down, I touched the cat’s-eye bracelet.

“I like that,” I said. “From a girlfriend?”

“Looks like something a girl would give a guy? Right idea, wrong person. It was from my mom. Last gift before she died.” Again that quiet grief threatened to fall. Again he shook it off. “Anyway, so, yes, Mom was Native and my father was, apparently, Latino. So kids would try to get me to commit their criminal acts for them, either figuring I’m a dumb Indian who needed money for booze or a dumb Mexican who needed it for dope. Either way, they were sure I was dumb enough to do something illegal.” A pause, then a crooked smile. “And, apparently, they were right.”

Another minute of silence. The question was hanging there: What did you do? Instead I said, “Are you … okay?”

“You mean, are we in danger of federal marshals barreling through the woods with a warrant for my arrest? Nah. It wasn’t like that. I just … After our mom died, we didn’t have as much money as she thought we did, because Annie and I had sneaked into her savings to get stuff for her. Medicine, food she liked, whatever. It wasn’t bad at first. Annie was working. Two jobs sometimes, and selling her sculptures on the side. Mom was a carver, and Annie got the artistic genes. I wanted to quit school and work, so she could concentrate on her art, but she wouldn’t let me. She helped me get a parttime job, though, so I felt better about it.”

I thought of the girl I’d met. Tried to imagine her as the big sister who’d dragged her brother away from pot-smoking friends, wouldn’t let him quit school, took care of him. It sounded like he was talking about a completely different person. I guess, in some ways, he was.

“And then the accident happened,” I said.

“Yeah. The damage … it took a while to develop. At first Annie could work, but then, not so much. She’s just … she’s not interested in stuff like that anymore. Out here, she’d be happy to wander around the woods all day, find a stream when she’s thirsty, eat berries when she’s hungry, nap when she’s tired.”

“So you needed money.”

He nodded and looked out over the forest. “Annie knew we needed money. She still understood that. She met these guys and they offered her some, and the old Annie—she would have told them to go to hell, but she’s not like that anymore and …” He kept his gaze straight ahead, face hard. “I got there just in time, and I—I didn’t want to ever have to worry about that again. So there were these other guys, drug guys. A buddy of mine was a runner for them. I got him talking, found out they were doing a deal and had money to pay for it, so I …”

“Helped yourself.”

“Yeah. Seemed easy. And it was. Only I found out later why it was so easy—because those guys were connected and no one else was stupid enough to rip them off. Until I came along.” He smiled, but it faltered and finally fell. “And, having won thirty minutes of your time, I think I just gave you thirty minutes of reasons to run the other way as fast as you can.”

“I don’t run away.”

He looked at me, startled, and what I saw in his eyes was so raw that my breath caught and all I could do was sit there, staring at him, that weird floating feeling trickling through my veins.

“That wasn’t what I meant to talk about,” he said, his voice low. “I really wanted to impress you, Maya.”

“You did.”

I leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes widened, then his lips parted and he kissed me back, mouth warm and firm against mine and that floating feeling washed over me and through me, and it was so amazing that when it ended, I just stayed there, my face so close to his I could feel his breath, see those incredible amber eyes, and that was all I could see, all I wanted to see.

We hung there, face-to-face, just staring, then he said, “Yes?” and I said, “Yes,” and he kissed me again, and it was no awkward, hesitant, first-date kiss. It started at third date, deep and hungry, bodies colliding, and I’d like to say he started it but I honestly wasn’t sure.

This tiny voice in my head screamed “Slow down!” but it was so small and so faint that I could barely hear it and I didn’t want to. All I felt was Rafe’s mouth on mine, his arms around me, his body against me, and I didn’t care about anything else. It was like jumping from a cliff, a terrifying, exhilarating, mind-blowing rush, and I didn’t want it to end, didn’t care where it led, only wanted to follow.

I could feel his heart beating, and I could hear it, pounding. I even swore I could smell him, just him. The world seemed to spin and fade, and I drifted in and out, and that voice kept saying that something was wrong, something was very wrong, but I didn’t care.

One minute we were sitting up, making out. The next we were lying on the roof, and I was on top of him, and I didn’t know how I got there. I was kissing him and then, all of a sudden, I wasn’t. He was holding my face in his hands, poised above his, as he panted softly, his pupils so huge I could drown in them.

“Hate to ask,” he said, struggling for breath. “How much did you drink?”

“Nothing. Just Coke.”

“Oh.”

He held me there another moment, searching my gaze, his breath coming in soft puffs, fingers in my hair, looking like he was struggling to hold me there, away from him. I strained against his hands, and he said, “Okay,” hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure it was okay. Then he kissed me again deep and hard, like he didn’t care if it was okay.

Only it wasn’t the same now. His hesitation kept playing in my head, and that little voice got louder until finally I heard myself saying it aloud, “Something’s wrong.”

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I won’t try anything. Just this, okay?” His mouth lowered to mine. “Just this.”

He kissed me, and I realized he was on top of me now and I didn’t remember that happening. I pulled away, saying louder, “Something’s wrong.” He blinked, hard, like he was clearing his head, and I was suddenly really aware of him, on top of me, holding me down and I panicked, struggling up so fast my elbow caught him in the chin, and he fell back.

I looked around. Everything was hazy. I struggled to my feet, blinking hard, feeling like I’d just stepped off a merry-go-round.

“Maya?”

Rafe’s voice seemed distant and distorted and I said again, “Something’s wrong,” but the words came out mumbled and thick.

I looked down at my empty Coke glass. I remembered Rafe handing it to me at the sofa. Remembered him offering to carry it.

“Oh God,” I whispered.

He stepped toward me. I stumbled back, and he lunged to grab me, calling “Maya!” as I scrambled down the roof. The world kept spinning and I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, could only see Rafe coming at me, lips parted in words I didn’t hear. I inched back until I was at the edge. Then I crouched and jumped and as I did, I realized what I’d done, saw the ground rushing up and then—

Thump. I landed in a crouch, gasping as pain slammed through my legs. I blinked hard, certain I was hallucinating. I couldn’t possibly have leaped off a two-story roof and landed on my feet. I heard a shout and saw Rafe dangling over the edge. He hit the ground and turned toward me. My heart jammed into my throat and I stumbled back, saying, “No!”

“Maya?”

Sam jogged around the corner. I stepped toward her, but my legs wouldn’t hold me and I went down, landing on all fours, hearing the thump of running feet from both sides, Rafe and Sam.

“Stay away from her,” Sam said, then yelled. “Daniel!”

“I didn’t—” Rafe began. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t me.”

More running footsteps. Heavy. Daniel.

“Maya?” The footsteps picked up speed. “What’s going—?”

“My drink,” I whispered as Sam crouched beside me. “Something in my drink.”

A bone-crunching crack. Then a thump as Rafe hit the ground beside me. I scrambled back. Nicole helped me to my feet, and pulled me out of the way as Daniel bore down on Rafe, his face livid.

“Get up,” Daniel said.

Rafe stayed down, lifting his hands. “If Maya’s been dosed—”

“If? If? Are you saying she’s faking it?”

“No. Obviously something happened. I mean maybe her drink was spiked. But I had nothing to—”

“Get up!”

Rafe didn’t. Sam stepped behind him, blocking his escape.

“Go ahead,” Sam said. “Stomp him.”

Daniel continued forward. “Get up, you son of a bitch.”

“Screw that,” Sam said. “Hell, if he does get up, I’ll hold him for you.”

“Stay out of this,” Daniel said.

“Just leave him,” I said, my voice still thick, the world still tilting. “Let him go.”

Daniel didn’t seem to hear me and kept bearing down on Rafe. I staggered forward to stop him, but now it was Corey taking my arm and pulling me back.

“Daniel,” I said. “Don’t—”

Branches crackled. A blur burst from the forest. It charged so fast all I could see was that blur. Then it jumped between Rafe and Daniel.

A cougar. Not Marv or the new tom, but a female, planted between them, facing Daniel, lips curled back. She let out a snarl. I jerked forward. Corey caught me and held my arm.

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I faded again, everything sliding in and out of focus, no matter how hard I struggled to stay alert, heart pounding at seeing that cougar so close to Daniel, the house and safety too far away.

I remember the cat snarling. I remember Daniel backing up. And I remember Rafe, lying on the ground, saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” over and over in this calm voice, completely calm, like he didn’t even see the cougar. The cat backed up, getting closer and closer to Rafe and he didn’t move a muscle and I remember thinking, “She’s protecting him,” which was crazy, but that’s what I thought.

Then the world blinked, and my legs gave way. As I went down, Daniel ran toward me, and I opened my mouth to shout for him not to turn his back on the cat, but she was already twisting away.

I don’t remember anything else.

No, that’s a lie. I remember one more thing. I remember the cougar turning away and I remember what I saw on her flank. A dark patch of fur in the shape of a paw print.

FIFTEEN

I BLACKED OUT AFTER that. I came to a few minutes later, but the rest of the night is fuzzy. I couldn’t seem to stay awake and kept drifting off.

Someone had dosed my drink, and everyone was sure who’d done it. Everyone except me.

I kept replaying the evening. Rafe had handled my drink. More than once. He’d been the one to suggest we go someplace quieter to talk. He’d been the one to suggest we go outside. So he was the obvious choice.

Except that once he’d gotten me alone, he’d done what he promised—talked. I’d kissed him first. He’d made sure it was okay before continuing. He’d asked how much I’d had to drink. He’d hesitated. And maybe that was all part of the setup, so later if I regretted what happened, he could say that I’d taken the lead and he’d just followed.

Maybe he did do it. I wasn’t ruling that out. I wasn’t sure I believed it, though, certainly not enough to call Chief Carling, which is what Daniel wanted to do.

It was strange. I remember sitting there, talking, but it was like I was watching someone else saying things I’d never say. I didn’t defend Rafe. But I wouldn’t let them call Chief Carling or even my parents. If it had been anyone else sitting there, I’d have been the one leading the charge, insisting the victim take action.

Two years ago, a summer guy—a grown-up—had cornered Nicole in the woods, and if Serena and I hadn’t found them and scared the guy off, I’m sure she would have been raped. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. I’d talked her into it, then escorted her to Chief Carling and sat with her while she told her parents. Now, having her there, listening to me refuse to report it … It felt wrong.

But reporting it felt even more wrong. If I accused Rafe, they’d find out about Annie. If Rafe had done it, then I would have to tell someone, because he might do it again to another girl, but if I wasn’t totally sure it was him … I couldn’t say anything unless I was sure.